


Before I Go

by truetothecause



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, angsty as fuck my dudes, au in which zira just, crowley is sad and writes a letter, isnt there, its my very first post on ao3 eyo, its short but im super proud of it, this is the letter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truetothecause/pseuds/truetothecause
Summary: Aziraphale is gone and Crowley is broken.





	Before I Go

It seems impossible, especially to someone in a predicament such as I. When I awoke, you were there. When I Fell, you were there. When I rose into Eden, to trick, to tempt, to corrupt, you were there. God played us as fools, my dear. She tends to, moving souls like chess pieces in her large game. She warned you of me, I take it. You were wary, yet soft. Polite. Well-spoken. You gave them your sword. Brave. Bold. Daring. That’s when I knew.

I knew I was doomed to fall, again. Not in the same way as before, of course. In a different way, a new way, a way unknown to me. Even before, in the Sky, I had never fallen the way I did for you. You introduced me to something different. It was exquisite, the way our souls intertwined and went from strangers on the Gate of The Garden to baring it all out to each other with nothing holding us back, protecting a child from the very reason I was put on the Surface. From the very reason you were put on the Surface. To stop the War. We did it my dear, we stopped the War. We royally “effed the Ineffable Plan”, as you so eloquently put it. 

I took a nap once, do you recall? It was a long slumber, I was tired. I was so tired, angel. A century without you, in nothing but the darkness of sleep. I needed it, to shed my corporal body and let myself float. Never worrying, not feeling, not thinking. Letting my poor, fallen, broken soul run free in the nether. But then I thought of you. You, angel. You, the one thing I have been destined to hate, to fight, to be naturally against. An angel. I, a demon, a fallen, thrown away soul, thought of you in my sleep. I woke again, and took you out for crepes and coffee. 

There was a look in your eyes when I came back. A loss, a change in our situation. You didn’t trust me anymore, not the way you had before. I had left you, my dear. For a century. We are not the same as Them, the humans, but you felt it. The time I took hurt you. We had already admitted to being genuine friends at this point, to defying all rules of Heaven and Hell and adoring each others company. We had no other choice, I must admit. As the only two immortal beings on the surface at all times, God pulled us together. Pawn to D4.

All we need is each other. After the Fight, after adverting the Great War, it all fell into place. When you first took me by the hand, in your musty old bookshop and dragged your knuckles across the rough of my cheek, I gave you everything. Every chain I had wrapped around what little heart I had left broke, shattered into thousands of shards that shot across my chest and buried themselves into my ribcage. It was on that day, on the floor of that bookshop, in which I finally had you. Fully, in body, mind and soul. 

Body has never been important to us, we both know that. Yet, the sight of you shedding your form to show me your soul as I showed you mine, allowing us to intertwine in a way no mortal, celestial or hell-knight can relate. You left a mark on my spirit, angel. As I did on yours. 

That’s when She struck. We could never have been happy, angel, you must know that. Now here I sit, on the same floor of this same timeworn old bookshop, yet you aren’t here. There is no one to hold my hand, no one to kiss my forehead, no one to bring me a coffee and sit in my lap. 

Goodbye, angel. I will miss you. 

I shall take another nap, and maybe when I wake up She will have either ridden the Surface of me, or ridden my mind of you. Otherwise, I cannot bear this pain, my dear. 

I love you.


End file.
